I knew Tolliver had been having a painful time since the discovery that a woman who'd been pursuing him had had an ulterior motive; even when you're not crazy about someone, even when in fact you're a little repelled by that person, that's got to sting. Tolliver hadn't talked about Memphis much, but it had left its mark on both of us. I watched his long white fingers moving, lost in my own sad place. Things hadn't been as easy between us in the past few weeks. It was my fault…all my fault.

The waitress came by to ask if we needed refills on our drinks, managing to smile a little more brightly at Tolliver than at me.

"Where are you all going?" she asked brightly.

"Asheville area," Tolliver said, glancing up from the game.

"Oh, it's beautiful there," she said, doing her bit for the tourist board. He gave her an absent smile and bent back over the pegboard. She gave his downturned head a philosophical shrug and hustled off.

"You're staring a hole in me," Tolliver said, without looking up.

"You're just in my line of sight," I said. I leaned on my elbows. Where the hell was the food? I folded the paper band that had been around the napkin-rolled tableware.

"Your leg hurting?" he asked. I had a weak right leg.

"Yeah, a little."

"Want me to massage it tonight?"

"No!"

He looked up then. He raised his eyebrows.

Of course I wanted him to massage my leg. I just didn't know if that would work out. I might do something wrong—wrong for us.

"I think maybe I'll just put some heat on it tonight," I said. I excused myself and went to the ladies' room, which was filled with a mother and her three daughters, or maybe her daughter had some friends along. They were very young and very loud, and the minute I could get into a stall, I closed the door and pushed the bolt. I stood there for a moment, leaning my head against the wall.